


there is no such thing as an ethical solution

by isthisrubble



Category: Casino Royale (2006), James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: (i think), Ethical Dilemmas, F/M, Gen, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Moral Dilemmas, Vague references to the Casino Royale script, discussion of off screen character death, implied suicide mention, it's not angsty really it's just sad, personal dilemma, pov vesper lynd, vague references to the casino royale book
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isthisrubble/pseuds/isthisrubble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“If James doesn’t win, well, she has a full bottle of sleeping pills in her suitcase. That should be enough.”<br/>Missing scenes from Casino Royale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	there is no such thing as an ethical solution

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after a discussion with [hydr0gencyan1de](http://hydr0gencyan1de.tumblr.com/) about Vesper's agency and actions during Casino Royale. Betaed by [obfuscatress](http://archiveofourown.org/users/obfuscatress/pseuds/obfuscatress), all remaining mistakes are due to my own stubbornness. Enjoy! or not, because, you know, sad.

She’s done all she can, now. Bond can’t buy back in, and with him out of the game, Le Chiffre is almost guaranteed to win. They’ll let her speak to Yusef again. If she’s very lucky, they might even decide she’s done enough, and let him come home.

Vesper closes the door to her hotel bedroom and sinks down on the bed. Home. She hasn’t seen Yusef in months. She’s spent so long waiting for something to go wrong, waiting for the monthly phone calls to stop, that the idea of him back in their flat, safe, close enough to touch whenever she likes, is almost impossible to imagine.

She flops down on her back and covers her eyes. Mathis is still in the casino, making sure Bond doesn’t do anything idiotic so they can all leave without blowing what’s left of their cover.

Bond.

If he weren’t so insufferable she’d feel sorry for him. He really had no chance, and he’d been so confident – overconfident. Even if she were only thinking of the nation’s best interests, she wouldn’t have let him have the five million. He’s too rash, irresponsible, unable to take the whole operation seriously.

And yet.

She actually feels guilty, not necessarily about lying to him, but about taking the opportunity away from him. She shouldn’t be worrying about it now. What’s done is done. It’s for the best. But she’s unlikely to get any sleep tonight anyway, and she’s thinking about it now.

Ten minutes later Vesper is still thinking about it, and she feels worse, not better.

It’s not for the best at all.

She grew up surrounded by gamblers, and she knows more about them than anyone else in this outfit seems to assume. That look in Bond’s eyes is the look her father, who always won small and lost big, used to have; but the way he plays the game, the way he thinks – he’s right, he _can_ win. And if he wins, maybe, just maybe, MI6 will shut down a major terrorist cell, and some innocent people can sleep safer at night.

If he wins, Yusef dies.

And if Yusef dies?

If Yusef dies, her heart will break. And that’s it.

Just one woman’s broken heart doesn’t compare to the safety of a whole building full of people, does it? This is bigger than any of them.

Vesper sits up again. She shouldn’t be considering this. She gave her word, and she already told Bond no – he’s probably already hiding in a bar somewhere on his way towards a massive hangover. But.

If she gives Bond the money, and she refuses to help Le Chiffre, Bond will win. She’s suddenly more certain of that than anything else. Bond will win, and Le Chiffre will have to surrender to MI6, and then she will have done something _good_. No matter what happens to Yusef, no matter what Bond will think of her when she tells him (because she must, she must tell him, and straight away, because MI6 will want her alive for questioning and otherwise she’ll be dead in a week –), it will have been the right thing to do.

She’s still calling herself a fool as she puts her shoes back on and prepares to go looking for Bond. The casino will be the place to start – if he’s not there Mathis might still be, and she can get him to help. She hits the down button for the elevator – there’s no way she’s ever going back into that stairwell – and waits, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s being stupid. People will die either way. It’s not – _damn it_. She’s doing it now.

Of course, when the lift opens, Bond is in it.

‘There you are.’ He doesn’t sound angry. He doesn’t look defeated. He’s not even looking at her like he wants to shake her. ‘I thought you might have gone to bed. Come on, game starts again in ten minutes.’ He tugs her into the lift and presses the button for the ground floor. He’s not drunk, either.

‘What? You’re going to watch it?’

He quirks an eyebrow. It looks wrong, with no other expression on his face. ‘I’m going to win it.’ When she looks blank, he elaborates. ‘The Americans have given me a little Marshall aid.’

‘Oh.’ So it doesn’t matter. He’s back in the game.

‘I’ll mention in my report that you strongly disapproved, if it helps you sleep better at night.’

‘The safety of our government’s money will help me sleep better at night, but I suppose I'll have to settle for that.’ She bits again, draws blood. She cannot shake. She cannot give anything away.

They link arms as the doors open. Smile. Look confident. Call their bluff.

May the best man win.

* * *

She can feel the eyes of Le Chiffre’s people burning into the back of her skull as soon as Bond takes his place as the table. She ignores them in favour of watching the game closely, hoping and praying. She believes in James, she does, but that doesn’t stop her taking out her anxiety on herself. Her mouth is full of blood.

Eventually she’s got no choice. She has to go to the bathroom, and she’s being followed.

When she comes out of the cubical, Valenka is leaning against the bench inspecting her nails. She’s kind enough to let Vesper wash her hands before she boxes her into the corner and starts demanding answers.

‘You weren't supposed to let him buy back in.’

She forces herself to look Valenka straight in the eye, to hide her fear. ‘I didn't. He got the money somewhere else.’

‘Where?’

‘I don't know.’

‘ _Liar._ ’ Valenka grabs her arm and _twists_.

‘ _I don't know! Please! He didn't tell me!_ ’ She can’t do this, she’s not trained, they’ll –

‘Go back out there and distract him.’

 _Yusef darling, please forgive me_. ‘No.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I won’t do it.’ Valenka’s fingernails are digging in, and Vesper has to get out of this room before she loses her head completely. ‘Let go of me – if I bruise, he'll notice.’

Valenka looks like she’d love to hit her. ‘On your head be it, then.’ She gives one last twist to drive the point home before stalking out of the room.

Vesper slides down the wall and tries desperately not to throw up. She has to keep calm. If Mathis or Bond notices she might not be able to keep fooling them. Her nerves are shot to pieces. She’s just killed Yusef.

If James doesn’t win, well, she has a full bottle of sleeping pills in her suitcase. That should be enough.

She dabs a little foundation over the half-moon indentations in her forearm before returning to the salle privee.

* * *

One hundred and twenty million dollars.

Over two hundred and ten million pounds.

And it’s all in her hands.

No one knows about the bank account she set up. Not White, who is expecting the money in the account she was given when he briefed her. Not MI6 or the Treasury, who gave her a Treasury secure account to use. Not James, who thinks it’s all over, who she loves despite herself, despite how terribly that turned out last time. Who’s _happy_.

It’s not over.

She's got the money, but they still have the power – even supposing she could get the money to MI6 before White’s people intervened, they would still kill her, because she knows too much. Yusef is already dead, and they might try to kill James, too. If she runs, they’ll definitely try to use James to control her, and MI6 would be on her tail, as well.

If she gives White the money, she might be able to protect James, at least, if she plays her cards right.

There is no right decision.

Her phone rings again. It’s the fifth time in three days. White must be growing impatient. They leave tomorrow morning, and while they’re on the yacht no one will be able to contact her. A cooling off period, if you will.

She answers the phone.

‘Hello Mr White. I have a proposition for you.’


End file.
